


No Rest for the Healer

by unseenbox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociation, Humor, M/M, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22201699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unseenbox/pseuds/unseenbox
Summary: Caspar, Linhardt, and Ashe go bandit hunting and find something much bigger.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	No Rest for the Healer

**Author's Note:**

> There's a dissociation tag because of a (brief) scene where Linhardt faints.

Next village they went to, Linhardt was going to insist on a wagon. All this walking murdered his feet, not to mention the difficulties of trying to sleep while standing up. Caspar and Ashe marched ahead of him. Maybe if he snuck off behind a tree it'd take them a few hours to realize he'd fallen behind. Nah. Not worth it. Besides, if he was going to steal a little shut eye, he'd much rather do it in a place with a bed.

Caspar whistled while he walked. Hands behind his head, too, in that “Who, me?” pose that only made the inevitable scolding last longer. Ashe, well. Linhardt didn’t spend too much time with him before. Maybe caught a glimpse of him in the library in between research and napping at the desks. Nothing substantial. Had very cute freckles, though. That was a point in his favor. As was his ability to sometimes, if the moons just so happened to be in the right position, get Caspar to listen to him. Ashe really needed to teach him that one.

We should be in Daphnel territory before sundown,” Ashe said. Ostensibly, they were heading to Daphnel on some sort of official “help the new king figure out what to do with former Alliance territories” mission, but Linhardt assumed His Highness was just saying that to get him and Caspar out of his hair. Wouldn’t really blame him, either. Ashe, though, he took the whole thing seriously. He even picked up a map at the last village, something hastily sketched by a merchant. He held onto it ever since, squinting his eyes at the tree branches above them as they passed.

"You think they got anything to eat? I’m starving!” Caspar rubbed his belly to demonstrate.

“No, Caspar. The villagers all subsist on rocks,” Linhardt tossed out. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Too much effort.

Caspar turned around to face him, walking backwards. He chuckled. “Rocks like the one I’m gonna toss at your head?”

Linhardt stepped around an overgrown root, nonchalant. “The one that’s going to miss?”

“Not if you don’t get down fast enough.”

“Let’s not be too hasty, guys,” Ashe cut in. He laid a reassuring hand on Caspar’s shoulder. “There’s bound to be an inn, and well, if there isn’t, maybe we could ask some of the townspeople if they don’t mind sharing?”

“Which they probably will,” Linhardt sighed.

“Well, we won’t know unless we ask, right? And that’s only if they don’t already have somewhere to eat.” Ashe pulled at the collar of his hood. Sometimes he kept cats in it, if he found one in need along the way. Linhardt focused on that, instead of Ashe’s irritating habit of ruining a perfectly good pessimistic outlook with relentless sensibility.

“They’ve gotta! They can’t just keep all the food they grow for themselves, right?” Matter decided, in his mind at least, Caspar spun forward again. He stomped as he went along. No doubt alerting an enemy archer to their location, too. There were many reasons Linhardt was thankful the war ended, chief among them that Caspar would no longer risk an enemy ambush just from how loudly his boots clanked when he walked. Oh, and the whole peace thing. He guessed that was pretty good, too.

He must have zoned out as Caspar and Ashe debated what the hypothetical inn would serve, because next thing he knew, Caspar came to a slow stop. He scrunched his nose, squinting the way he usually did when he decided to pay attention to his surroundings for once.

“Hey, is that smoke? We can’t be that close yet, can we?”

Ashe, alarmed, turned his head every which way. “Where, I can’t see it?”

Linhardt peered between the branches, and sure enough, smoke billowed through them. “That way. East, I guess.”

“What do you think it might be?” Caspar asked. He’d gone low to the ground, as though he were in any way capable of stealth. “Some kind of fire, right?”

Linhardt survived the war. You didn’t do that by not knowing what smoke on the roadside meant. He smiled grimly. “Maybe they heard we were coming and decided to throw us a barbeque.”

“No, the nearest village is about a mile from here…” Ashe grew paler with every word he spoke until he trailed off. Looked like he had his suspicions, too, good for him. His hand went for the bow on his back. As he strung it, he said, “But we should see what’s causing it. Someone might be in trouble.”

“On it!” Caspar called, excited as always. He ran ahead heedless. Ashe and Linhardt followed behind, steps careful and measured. The dirt crunched beneath their feet.

As it turned out, the smoke came from the corpse of a merchant wagon. Flames licked at the sides. Bandits, of course. Ones with explosive barrels, judging from the shrapnel. Grass flattened by horse hooves and marching boots. Ruts carved from the wagon wheels. And there were bodies, of course. Four of them. One burnt, two shot through with arrows, one wounded. Blood pooled around them. Viscera, too. Linhardt shut his eyes. Nope. Not dealing with this today, thank you.

“Lin? You alright, buddy?” Caspar. Hand on his shoulder. Rubbing a little. Too hard to be soothing, but an attempt was made.

“Hm?” Oh. That was him speaking. And he supposed those were also his hands shaking. He blinked his eyes open. When did he slump to the ground? Caspar knelt in front of him, dirt on his knees. Ashe hovered behind him, face pale. Eyes red. Had he been crying?

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Caspar waggled them back and forth.

Linhardt glared weakly. “Entirely too many.”

“Eh, close enough.” Caspar crushed him into a hug. Oh, that was going to leave a mark.

“Can’t. Breathe.” Despite the damage being dealt to his lungs as he spoke, Linhardt did not pull away. Must be something in the water.

Ashe let out a sigh as his shoulders shrugged off some weight. “Oh, thank goodness. You fainted, and… well, anyway, I’m glad you’re okay too.” He gave a smile, a bit weak but aiming towards relieved.

“Well, you could’ve let me sleep a bit longer.” Linhardt shrugged.

Ashe bit his lip, glancing behind them at the torn apart wagon. “I wonder what happened to these people…”

“You could always ask him.”

“Who?!” Caspar shouted right into his ear.

Linhardt winced. “Ow.” He pointed over their shoulders and to the left. “Him. He’s still alive. For now, anyway.” Wounded could very quickly become dead, after all. The man was slumped against a tree with an arrow to the shoulder. Not great, but, well. Better than the alternatives.

Ashe hurried to the man’s side as Linhardt pushed himself up. Well, really, Caspar hauled him to his feet when he saw him start trying to move, but who was counting? Linhardt fumbled around his pack for a vulnerary. In the meantime, Ashe reached the man and started trying to rouse him. He went for the shake to the shoulders, always a classic, and when that didn’t work, put a hand to his temple and started worrying the brow.

“Hello? Can you hear me? My name is Ashe, and these are—you probably can’t see them, but that’s Caspar and that’s Linhardt, and they’re my friends. We’re going to try and heal your injuries now, if that’s okay.” The man murmured incomprehensibly. Ashe glanced up and scooched over. “Oh, there you are! Right on time.” Linhardt hopped down next to them, vulnerary in hand. He looked at the ground, not his hands or the body beneath them, as he spread the salve. Eurgh.

“Is he gonna be okay now?” Caspar called.

“Probably.” Linhardt shrugged.

The man groaned and coughed. Ashe and Linhardt moved aside to give him some room. The wound knit itself together, pushing the arrow out in the process. Looked scabby and red, but it’d heal. Long enough for Ashe to talk to him, at least.

“Hey, easy now. You’re alright.” Ashe muttered other comforting nonsense as the stranger regained consciousness.

“Seeing as he’s not going to die in the next ten minutes, I’m going to take a nap.”

“See you soon,” Ashe chuckled.

Linhardt clocked out. He walked over to Caspar, hard at work kicking over the wreckage for “clues.” Maybe someone left a pillow behind. He could hope. Ashe stormed over by the time they had uncovered the broken wine bottles. He took a few moments to catch his breath, bent double and panting. See, this was why Linhardt took a firm stance against running.

“Okay, so I found a few things out from Pietro.”

“Who?” Caspar looked baffled. It was a very common look on him.

“The merchant we healed, his name’s Pietro…” Ashe blushed. “I guess it might not make too much of a difference, huh?” He rallied, continuing. “But, um, anyway, he was traveling with his group to Galatea when they were attacked by bandits. A lot of travelers use this road because Ailell’s to the north, you know? And nobody wants to go through there unless they absolutely have to, so… bandit attacks are pretty common.”

“Right!” Caspar hopped to his feet, removing a rock from his boot in the process. “Sounds like it’s bandit smashing time!”

“Well, I suppose so? But he wasn’t sure which way the bandits went after they attacked, so finding them might be a little tricky.”

“Right. So… requiring effort. I’ll pass, thanks.”

Caspar bounced on his feet, looking every which way. It didn’t take long for him to zero in on some scuff marks leading into the underbrush. Probably imagined some clanging noises, too, from the way he shouted “Aha!” before he sprang off to the west.

“Caspar, wait, come back!” Ashe called out after him. Linhardt knew Caspar well enough not to even bother trying.

Linhardt caught Ashe’s eye. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, “You see what I put up with?”

Ashe’s worried gaze replied, “I see your point, but we still have to go after him.”

So they went after him. Thankfully, Caspar’s shouting made it difficult for them to truly lose track of him. The forest grew darker and deeper around them, roots spreading like spider webs. Sometimes the ground dipped and bended where dirt had been carved out. Shadows struck curious poses against the tree trunks. One of them looked like a wolf. A wolf the size of a horse. Caspar had climbed on its back, axe raised high as the wolf roared—

“Is… Is that a demonic beast?” Ashe worried as he reached for his bow.

“Probably.” Linhardt moaned. The wolf reared back and Caspar hit the dirt in front of them. He hopped right back up again, barely even scratched. He seemed like he was having fun, good for him.

“What took you so long?!” Caspar grinned, raring to go in for another round.

The wolf scratched and sniffed at the earth before catching their scent, taking down a tree limb as it whipped around to face them. It growled, eyes hungry and wild with pain. Yep. Definitely a Demonic Beast. Sightings slowed down since the end of the war, but, well, you couldn’t put Crest Stones back in the bottle so easily.

“We were looking for you!” Ashe shouted. He loosed an arrow which embedded itself in the wolf’s thick fur.

“Oh, well, here I am!” Caspar squat low to the ground, axe hefted in his hands.

“You must introduce us to your new friend.” Linhardt’s knees protested as he crouched behind a thick tree. The wolf circled closer, snapping downed branches in its wake. Linhardt didn’t dare take his eyes off it. Ashe fired another arrow, this one striking the front leg.

“Okay, I think I have a plan,” Ashe whispered.

Caspar didn’t even turn back to face them. “Lay it on me!”

“Try to aim for the legs, that might slow it down. I’ll distract it with my arrows. Linhardt…?”

“I’m awake.” Unfortunately.

“Keep us safe, if you can?”

Linhardt eyed the demonic wolf. “Might be a little late for that.” He nodded, all the same. “But sure, I can keep you in one piece. More or less, anyway.” Maybe he was too quick to promise that. Oh, well. If he was wrong, it’s not like he’d live long enough to regret it.

The wolf growled, and suddenly the three of them found better things to do than keep talking. Like fight the wolf, for example. Ashe peppered the wolf’s shoulders with arrows. The wolf’s thick fur made it difficult to judge its injuries with any kind of accuracy, but on the fifth arrow, blood started trickling from the pincushion wound. Caspar, meanwhile, took wild swings at the wolf’s legs. Sometimes he’d twirl his axe over his head like a baton first, as if that would make him hit harder. Caspar often struck empty air where the wolf had been. Alas, the wolf must have caught on to Caspar’s strategy of ‘trying to hit it very hard’. The next time Caspar hefted his axe, the beast clubbed Caspar to the ground with one swing of its paws. It roared, but before it could claw at him further, an arrow struck it in the back, and it swung around to face Ashe. Caspar wasn’t moving.

“That’s enough of that.” Casting spells always took so much energy. Faith felt like staring into the sun in the middle of winter. Even now, Linhardt fought the urge to shut his eyes. He drew the power to him, light and warming, and released it in a wave before it could overwhelm him. Green light illuminated Caspar, who groaned as he raised himself to his knees. A shame Physic did nothing for the dent in his armor, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“I owe you one!” Caspar called. He took up his axe and hopped to his feet. The beast prowled mere feet from Ashe. Caspar didn’t hesitate. Admittedly, he never hesitated a single day in his life, but in this particular instance, his lack of patience came in handy. He built up a head of steam, charging towards the wolf as if not even the Goddess herself could slow him down. He shouted, “Here we go!” as he leapt into the air and brought the axe down on the wolf’s back. The beast collapsed beneath him, brought low and bleeding, and Caspar grinned like a thunderbolt.

An arrow landed an inch from his hand, deflecting off the wolf’s fur. “Hey, Ashe, watch where you’re aiming!”

“That wasn’t me!” Ashe went white.

“Then who---”

“HEY MITCH, WE GOT A BEAST OUT HERE! AND SOME DAMN KIDS!” a gruff voice shouted from somewhere behind them.

Another arrow struck the ground. Sure enough, a man the size of a barn emerged from the trees, bow in hand, followed by three others armed to the teeth. Literally. He was pretty sure one of them planned on biting the wolf to death. They all wore green bandanas, whether on top of their heads or around their necks. For a moment, the air went still and quiet. Even the wolf stopped moving. Everyone blinked at each other. Hands reached towards weapons, fingers itching.

“Oh, right. Forgot about the bandits,” Linhardt muttered.

Then, well. Then things got wildly out of hand. Everyone attacked everyone else, the bandits, the demonic beast, and the three of them. The beast would be brought low by one of Ashe’s arrows only for another arrow to land inches away from him. A bandit would swing at Caspar and then be torn by the wolf’s claws. The wolf prowled in circles, chomping at whoever proved dumb enough to get near its mouth. Linhardt watched for Ashe and Caspar in the carnage, pulling spells towards him if either one of them hit the dirt. Once, Ashe took a slash across the side from a bandit’s sword, and Linhardt cast the healing spell faster than he could blink. The battle dragged on for what felt like hours but probably only took a few minutes. Steel swords clashed with steel claws and Caspar’s battlecries.

When the dust settled, the wolf lay dead at their feet. Linhardt did not know who struck the final blow, but the way Caspar cackled atop the demonic beast certainly gave him a few ideas. Only one bandit remained standing. Well. If you could call leaning against a tree for support ‘standing’, at least. The other three weren’t nearly so lucky, dead from claws or arrows or axes. Maybe all three. Linhardt did not want to dwell on it. He had much better things to do with his time, like looking anywhere but at the bodies. Ashe, for instance. Great person to look at. Cute butt, too. Not quite as good as Caspar’s shoulders, but very few things really were.

Linhardt shook his head. Right, ogle later. He had work to do. He wandered over to Ashe’s side. Ashe looked pale and shaky on his feet. One healing spell pinked him right up, thankfully. As for Caspar-- Caspar hopped down from the beast and marched towards the remaining bandit. Right, because he hadn’t fought enough today.

“Hey, you’re the ones who attacked that wagon back there, aren’t you?” Caspar asked.

“What wagon? Never heard of it. I was on one of the moons at the time! With Mitch!” the bandit rattled off. He did not appear to be helping his case. Caspar just crossed his arms and scowled. The bandit thunked his head against the tree behind him. He shrugged. “Yeah, alright, we hit the wagon. What of it?”

“You’re gonna pay is what!” Caspar hefted his axe. Here came the part where he chopped the bandit’s head off. Linhardt closed his eyes.

“Hold on, Caspar,” Ashe said. He put a hand to Caspar’s shoulder and gently nudged him aside. He looked down at the bandit, smiling sadly. “I’m sure that you must have your reasons for… the choices that you’ve made. Those choices got people killed just so you could have a little more gold in your pocket, so… they probably weren’t very good choices. But we don’t have to keep fighting here today, do we? After all, it looks like most of your fellows… well, they’re gone now. You can come with us to Daphnel and turn yourself in, though, and maybe you can start making better choices tomorrow.”

The bandit crossed his arms, scowling. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“That’s a very good question. The answer is that if you don’t, then my friend Caspar here is probably going to hit you with the very sharp axe he’s got in his hands.”

The bandit blinked. “On second thought, surrendering sounds pretty good.”

“I thought it might,” Ashe chuckled. He took some rope out of his pack and tied the bandit’s hands behind his back and said, “Just don’t want you getting any ideas about escaping, okay?” as he helped the bandit to his feet. The bandit did not seem to appreciate the assistance, grumbling the whole way up. He was still alive, though, so he didn’t have much room to complain.

Caspar frowned, arms crossed. “Aw, you know I could’ve taken that guy down.”

Ashe smiled. “Yeah, I know. But we’ve already had such a long day, and, well, we could all use a bit of a break.”

“Especially me,” Linhardt grumbled as the three (well, four) of them made their way out of the forest and back to the main road.

“Oh, yeah, you don’t look so good, Lin.” Caspar whistled.

“I look as pale and tired as I always do, I promise.”

“Nope, nothin’ doin, get up here.” Caspar reached for him. It took a bit of finagling, but eventually Caspar hooked Linhardt onto his back, gripping him by the knees. Ashe, the traitor, bent double laughing. When he recovered, though, he ran a hand across Linhardt’s forehead, and that made Linhardt decide to forgive him. How magnanimous of him.

“You just rest, okay? We’ve got everything covered from here.”

Linhardt smiled, his eyes already slipping shut. Amazing, how safe you could feel when being hauled around like a sack of potatoes by your best friend while your other best friend watched. Ah, well. Something to complain about later. But as for right now, boy, could he really use a nap, and by the Goddess, he was going to take it.


End file.
